Acquaintances
by Avelona-and-Sally
Summary: "You have one week to decide on a suitor. After that, I'm choosing one for you." "See if I care!" ...She would regret saying that, when she saw who had been chosen. Malchior/Raven.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans.

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Raven was silent as she read the letter for the sixth time. It was no different this time around. No loopholes, nothing negotiatable, no way that she would be able to turn down his request. She sighed and rolled it back up, tying it with the black ribbon that it had come with.

Her father was summoning her to take part in an arranged marriage. So that two domains would be united when the third (and largest) attacked. Because of the war.

She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath, trying to visualize strength entering her (inhale) and uncertainty leaving (exhale). It didn't work very much, because, at the moment, her emotions weren't quite as calm as she'd like them to be, due to the newly-allowed freedom her father had granted her.

Earlier in the month, she'd gotten a similar letter stating that she was being called to an informal meeting with her father concerning her marriage arrangements. This came as quite a surprise, as she hadn't ever thought her father could be this civil, much less warn her about their encounter, not to mention the fact that the words 'marriage arrangements' had appeared. Intrigued by his actions, she didn't try to prevent him from summoning her to a connected dream while she was asleep.

Their conversation was heated, as usual, with her tossing typical rebellious statements at him, and him pressing his point on how she couldn't get out of what she was born with. However, Trigon wasn't one to beat around the bush – neither was she – and the topic quickly turned to that which had been stated in the letter: a marriage was required, on her part. She had argued that she had thousands of siblings and he had replied with everyone older than her was either dead, married already, or missing – quite possibly captured or kidnapped by the enemy.

The idea was that a favored native of the opposite domain would be agreed upon by both rulers, and then a formal wedding would commence, kicking off the pre-battle celebrations. Then, the two selected newlyweds would lead the front lines together – after consummating the marriage. Lucky for her, both rulers were fairly decent in that they would allow their chosen citizens to 'okay' the person they were to do it with, and then would give them a full two months to get to know each other before the wedding. This would lead up to the day before the truce between her father's land and the other three ran out, when she and 'blank' would marry and then…screw.

Her and her father's conversation didn't exactly go well…

"_You have one week to make your way to my realm and judge for yourself the suitor we've chosen for you. After that, you will be participating in the ceremony either way."_

"_See if I care!"_

Although her father had given her a time limit, she now had to agree that he had been quite reasonable – preparations for weddings, not to mention war, took a long time. A week would have been an acceptable period of time in which to meet with and 'yay-or-nay' Trigon's first-to-third choices. Not that she'd admit it. She was more worried about the letter she had _now_ – five days later – which stated in an overly-innocent, all-too-reasonable manner that her father, 'Lord' Trigon, 'requested' her to come and begin preparations for the…_thing._

It was starting. In two days a big, ugly portal would open up and an escort would take her to the damned palace where she would prepare for the journey to _Lady Serpentaye's _kingdom. And then…hell.

How was she supposed to explain this to the other Titans? _'Oh, hi, remember my dad? Yeah, well, he wants me to go visit him for a couple of months and marry some guy I've never met before – you know how this goes, right, Star? – and then we're gonna lead two armies into battle 'cause this whole thing actually ties into a war! I'll send a postcard!'_ _That_ would go over well. As it was, the Titans had noticed that she had been distant this past week, and Robin had asked if this had anything to do with how her birthday was coming up again. She'd replied with a no, but said that he was pretty close, which didn't reassure anyone and made her feel a little more than awkward, since now they had something to cling to if she ended up never telling them anything. Swell.

Should she just start packing? There was no way she could escape, and asking the Titans for help might result in an inter-dimensional war between Earth and Trigon's land, which wasn't worth her not-marrying whoever this jerk ended up being. Raven huffed and tossed the scroll onto her bed, glaring at everything in her room as if her objects could stop this, somehow, and were staying still out of pure stubbornness.

"I _hate_ politics."

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A/N: I'll warn you not to expect long chapters on this one. (I've been reading too many 100-word drabbles. Blame those.) As always, I ask for reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Teen Titans.

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"I'm…going on a trip," Raven ground out. The room quieted a bit; Cyborg turned down the TV and Starfire ceased her banging in the kitchen, both listening to her without abandoning what they were doing. The other two, however, both looked at her, awarding undivided attention.

"Vacay? Sweet! Where to?" Beastboy cheered, already making a show of pulling out sunglasses from God-knows-where and pretending to be staring down a bright, sunny sky.

"Not a fun one, a necessary one," she amended, warily regarding his pose with about as much cynicism as she could muster. At the moment, all she wanted to do was sigh.

"Where are you going?" Asked Robin, crossing his arms, probably already sensing that something was bothering her.

"I'm visiting my father… Well, 'visiting' might not be the right word," she amended. This got a horrified response from everyone; the two other Titans dropped what they were doing and immediately came over, Cyborg not even caring that his car crashed in the video game that he was playing, now messing up his all-win record.

"What's going on? Is he planning to - ?"

"Earth is safe, as far as I know. I just need to go down there and sort some things out."

"'Down there?' …You mean…you're _visiting Hell?"_

"Again, 'visiting' might not be the right word. It's possible that I'll be living there for a long time, or that I don't come back," she said, thinking of the possibility that she died in battle. Or was executed for blasting her father on sight.

"Why do you have to do this?" Robin questioned, his stare hard. There was no doubt that he wished to prevent this, which was the exact _opposite_ of what Raven wanted. If he got it into his head that there was something he could do…

'_There's _nothing_ he could do! Absolutely _nothing!_ This is why you waited so long to tell them!'_ Raven thought to herself, doing her best to stamp out any thoughts that entertained a hostile relationship between Earth and her father. It was better that everyone remained ignorant of any dealings that went on between the two, but telling the other Titans was just necessary; she couldn't disappear – her friends deserved better than that.

"As one of his children, I'm a part of his court. I got a formal summons and am required to go, to help sort out an arrangement between his domain and another one," she explained tiredly.

"And what does 'help' include?" Robin asked.

Raven resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He just couldn't make this easy, could he? "A truce between the three lands on that level is going to expire soon; my father's kingdom and another are expecting to be heavily attacked as soon as it does, and want to officially join to better defend themselves against the third. This requires a marriage. As the oldest available heir to the throne - "

Starfire gasped, "But, Raven, that isn't – is this something that _you_ want to do?"

The four other Titans stilled and gave the redheaded girl thoughtful glances. While she _was_ a bit of a ditz, Raven had to admit that the Tamaranian was wise for her age. "If it'll keep Earth safe, then absolutely. Plus, the chance of me having to deal with the guy forever is slim if I don't like him." Option one: die in battle. Option two: fight well, return to Earth, go back to being a Titan. Woe be to anyone who dared to get in her way back home if she survived this.

"Friend Raven, I know the position you are in. Together, we were able to overcome the enemy when I had to marry someone I did not wish to. Why not this time around?"

"This time, as oppose to when you were in an arranged marriage, the threat to my home is very, very real. I want to go and make sure that nothing will harm Earth. For you, going there will be impossible without…you know; and this time, there isn't much chance that I'll be forever stuck with my spouse." Raven was sure that she hadn't always hated that word, and she had a hunch about why it was that she disliked it so very much now.

"Dang," Cyborg muttered, "So will we at least have some time with you before you leave?"

"Um…" She _hadn't_ thought this through. She _thought_ she had, but she really hadn't. "About one-and-a-half days…" She gave a sheepish smile.

The room was silent. Then,

"Why so short?" Beastboy whined, slouching comically in a defeated way - "Are you sure you don't want our help?" Robin said, serious expression never having gone – "If that guy thinks he can - " Cyborg began…

"_Friends!"_ Everyone looked at Starfire, who fixed each of them with a stern expression that surprised Raven, "We will not make this any more difficult for Friend Raven than it already is. Instead, we shall give her a proper send-off." This statement claimed several beats of silence after it was said, allowing everyone to absorb Starfire's understanding of the situation.

"So…" Everyone turned to Cyborg, who, himself, turned to Raven, "You up for pizza?"

[-M-]

There was lots of joking around at lunch. Most of it came from Beastboy, as Raven didn't have the heart to burst his bubble. Robin said nothing, chewing his pepperoni with the steady pace of a bull. Cyborg assisted Beastboy in his attempts to trick a smile out of Raven, entertaining the age-old and absolutely over-used Meat Lover's VS. Veggie Deluxe argument that everybody at the table was sick of. Starfire only asked the occasional question of the group, commenting on things that made no sense to her, and serenely spreading mustard all over her Hawaiian whenever she wasn't eating. Raven didn't eat very much of her 3-Cheese slice, which didn't encourage anyone at the table to talk about what was really on their minds.

At the end of the lunch-date, they all walked towards the local amusement park. Everybody was thankful that Beastboy's lack of tact didn't prevent him from paying for his own ticket instead of complaining to the others about how he was saving up for a new computer game and needed the cash. He knew that it wasn't likely that she'd get another chance to see them after she left, and didn't want to delay the Official Fun. It was just-as-well – her money was useless to her now; she would've paid for his ticket. There was lots of laughing and she was glad that hers was genuine. Faking enjoyment at them just didn't seem right to her.

The evening finished off with a movie-watching spree that ended with the infamous 'Wicked Scary.' Thankfully, her bleak mood didn't prevent her from smacking Beastboy for joking about her being scared. That had Cyborg chuckling and even managed to make Robin smile. When the movie was over, Beastboy leered at her, "So, Raven? Did it scare you?"

She smacked him again.

[-M-]

Last goodbyes were absolutely despised by her, both in movies and real life. They were cheesy, overly emotional and unappealing; especially if it was _Starfire_ who was giving goodbye hugs.

Raven grunted when she was released, finding herself weak-kneed when her feet found the ground again, "Uh, thanks, Star. But I'll see you guys again tomorrow."

"Then I shall hug you again then!" Proclaimed the alien, giving a big smile and floating a bit at the prospect of more time with her closest girlfriend. Raven sweatdropped and took a small step back, hoping no-one noticed. As it was, Robin chuckled a bit before telling everyone to go to bed.

With a small sigh, Raven glanced outside before following everyone to the stairs. The sky was cloudy, so no stars were visible, although the moon did give off a feeble light from behind a thin veil outside. Perhaps she'd stay up a bit later, since she wasn't all-that tired, anyway.

[-M-]

Breakfast was solemn; everyone chewed Cyborg's pancakes quietly – Beastboy made little noise concerning the non-vegetarian food, simply pulling out vegetarian sausages and heating them on the stove without engaging in an argument with the other breakfast fanatic. Starfire once again astounded everyone with her taste in condiments, mixing mustard in with the syrup before scooping it with her bacon like it was dip. Raven refrained from commenting and instead deeply inhaled the aroma coming from her breakfast tea.

"So when are you leaving?" Beastboy murmured. Everyone paused their quiet shuffling to hear her answer.

"Around noon – a portal is supposed to open up. I'd suggest staying away from it. There's miasma…there…and it might have a negative effect on you guys," Raven explained, spearing a fourth of a pancake and lightly dapping it in the pool of syrup that had accumulated on the right side of her plate. After placing the food on her tongue she winced; the flavorings that humans had created were too overwhelming for her.

"Where…?"

"Probably wherever I'm at. It's not too difficult to make a portal between worlds," she inwardly grimaced. Did she just accidentally give them a clue about how to get there? Noticing Robin's expression, she berated herself, _'You shouldn't have said that; now they'll be planning to storm in and…'_ This just… it brought along a whole host of problems that weren't hers to begin with! What did some other lord overthrowing her father have to do with her?

Her chair made a loud sound when she scooted away from the table, gathering her plate and utensils with a hushed, "Thanks, but I'm not very hungry." Everyone made small expressions of upset at this, which required her to add, "I kinda wanna be alone for a bit." Lest she start ranting about the unfairness of it all and make Robin's decision about whether or not to go after her for him.

The door closed behind her and she heaved a sigh, glad that nothing exploded due to her lax control. Damned king, acting all high and mighty…

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A/N: I think my guitar likes me again. For the first time in weeks, we're being civil to each other. My instructor even complimented me! (That adds up to a 'It was a bit better today.' Stingy.)

Review. It's what's for dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

There was no warning – one moment she was leaning against her bed, reading, and the next she was on her feet, staring at the portal that was widening in the center of her room. The edges were a pale golden color, like the dawn, gradually darkening into a copper near the center of the rim that formed the outside. The inside, however, was just a misty window into the dim place that she was going.

Out of the portal stepped two people - a man and a woman, both dressed in black-and-gray uniforms. A low bow was awarded to her, from each of them. They both kept their gazes on the floor, never daring to look her in the eye. The woman spoke up, "Lady Raven, my name is Elimona, and this is Adrian," she gestured to the man who bowed, once again, in her direction, "We are the servants who have been assigned to you. We are honored to be able to serve you, and respectfully ask that you come with us."

Raven raised an eyebrow at the two of them and crossed her arms, "Am I supposed to bring anything with me?"

"If you would like, we could come back and collect anything that you would like to have with you in the demon world. However, His Highness requested that you arrive as quickly as possible," Elimona stated.

Raven sighed, "All right, then. Let's get this over with." Uncrossing her arms, she led them into the dark place, proudly walking into the portal without hesitation. Immediately, she could feel herself reacting to the miasma. The poison easily entered her body, filling her with a primal urge that she struggled to fight. She shouldn't have relaxed when her father released his hold on her emotions – she was now too sloppy to contain her demonic urges. Behind her, her attendants took notice of her gritted teeth and asked if she would like to sit down, the appropriate amount of concern leaking into their questions.

"I apologize for not preparing an amulet or something of the sort. It slipped my mind that the miasma might make it difficult to control yourself. It was inconsiderate of me," murmured Adrian to her, taking her hand and guiding her down the hall as if they were folk-dancing. Surprised at the intimate gesture, Raven just stared at him, allowing herself to be half-carried to her room. Elimona walked in front of them; a purposeful stride that had Raven wondering how high her servants really were on the social ladder.

"This will be your dressing room," said Elimona, opening the doors and taking Raven from Adrian, continuing to guide her in until she found a chair. At his place in the threshold, Adrian gave a small bow in her direction and closed the double doors. Footsteps told Raven that he had walked away.

"Forgive me, my lady, if it seems that I am taking advantage of your weakened state," Without warning, Elimona removed her cloak and, wasting no time, stripped her down to nothing. Then, she ushered Raven through a low doorway. The room was darker and hotter than the other one, lit by white taper candles in twisted, black holders. Steam made it difficult to see, but Raven could still make out a pale, undressed form across the room that led her to believe there was a mirror there. Between her and the mirror, there was a pool of heated water which her maid told her to enter, pointing out the stairs that led into it.

She eased herself into it slowly, trying desperately not to trip whilst covering herself as best she could, then swam over to a seat that was built into the side. She had approximately one second to relax before Elimona poured a basin of cool water over her head and began working scented oils into her scalp. Closing her eyes to keep out the soap, Raven wondered about this treatment. Was it because of her upcoming marriage, or was it standard?

"I must apologize if this seems too rough. In the future, you will have plenty more time to enjoy a bath. It is only this time around that I will be waiting on you – to prepare you for an audience with His Majesty, you understand." Elimona muttered hastily, continuing her frantic washing of Raven's hair.

Raven didn't answer, now contemplating the high-class everything that seemed to surround her. She'd known there were underlings and living places, but this seemed too…flashy. Were all the palaces like this? Perhaps she hadn't visited this realm often enough – she knew so little about it. She'd known her father was a lord, but she hadn't known he was wealthy - not that wealth mattered. …What about the enemy kingdom? What were their living conditions like?

This was too unexpected. The monks on Azarath had taught her control, yes, but nothing about her father as he was known…_down here._ And why hadn't they? What was the big secret – she wouldn't have joined her father for a fancy bathroom, and the monks _knew_ that. What else were they keeping secret from her?

[-M-]

She was dressed swiftly, her hair speed-dried with a snap of her apparently magically-gifted maid's fingers and quickly put up into a twist. A loose, black gown was slipped over her head and cinched in at her waist with a thick sash to give some semblance of a womanly figure. Then she was pulled out of the room and again led to her father by Adrian and Elimona. The halls were suspiciously empty, which relieved Raven, as she'd been expecting lots of stares from other demons, but also piqued her curiosity: where were all the people she was supposed to be rousing into battle?

No-one spoke until finally they arrived at a door that looked similar to the one that led to her dressing room. Adrian bowed and gestured for her to enter, "His Majesty requests that you join him in his lounge."

Raven raised an eyebrow and opened the door.

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A/N: Since this story seems to still be gathering readers, I'm going to continue with it even though I deleted 'Her Dragon'. Hopefully, this'll go better than that one did.

Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

The room was dark – which was really only to be expected. He _was_ the embodiment of darkness. _'Though,'_ she thought with a frown, _'His army is made of fire, despite my own affinity. I wonder how that works.'_ To her surprise, he did not resemble the red-skinned behemoth she remembered. Instead, he stood, with his back to her, at a height that was perhaps a foot-and-a-half taller than Cyborg, and though his stature was still inhuman, it was nowhere near the God-like eminence he had adopted on his visit to Earth.

Upon her entrance, he looked up slowly, his eyes staying on the heavy volume he was holding in a reluctance that told not of an interesting passage, but of one that was necessary to read. He shut the book after marking the page with the leather chord that had been hanging out of the tome (apparently, even almighty demon lords got frustrated when they couldn't locate a page) and fixed her with two eyes that would have been very human-looking, had it not been for the sheer _blackness_ that dominated the iris, and the fact that her skin itched uncomfortably when he looked at her.

"Daughter," he said, voice booming through the large room commandingly, "Come forward."

She obeyed, but only because she was shocked at the _suave_ that he expressed in this being. He walked towards her, feet in study boots (an insignificant part of his overall attire, which was reminiscent of the military-like uniform of the last Tzar) and paused directly in front of her, face betraying no emotion, although the air that curled around them tasted of his smugness at having finally reduced her to silence. She could feel his eyes on her, absorbing her own expressionless features, the way she was attempting to slow her breathing and display apathy parallel to his, her rigid posture in the face of a deceptively _respectable_ being. He waited until she was ready to break the silence herself before continuing:

"Hold out your hand."

Again, she obeyed, extending an open palm as if accepting a bocce ball. In one fast, snake-like movement, he grabbed her wrist, pushed back her sleeve as if checking for scars, and wrapped his hand tightly around her forearm, enough that it would cut off her circulation eventually. A flash of near-burning heat and then biting cold where his hand was told of magic; he released her. She lifted her arm to her face, but found no mark.

'What did you do?" Amazingly, she'd found her voice. Even more remarkable, it was even, firm, and retained its usual annoyed edge.

"Insurance. That will make sure you do not disobey me and are not harmed before you have served your purpose," he explained, then walked lazily to the desk that sat buried under papers at the other end of the room and leaned on it. He did not allow her to form a retort, "You will meet your betrothed this evening at a dinner. To ensure that you do not embarrass me, you will both meet privately beforehand in the presence of myself and Her Majesty, the Lady of the Dragons."

Raven narrowly avoided a twitch, "Who is it that I am to _wed?"_ She said the word with as much scorn and mockery as she could, crossing her arms and leaning onto one leg with all the teenage rebellion she could muster.

Without warning, her father appeared directly in front of her, his large hand wrapping around her throat dangerously, "Do not _dare_ to be so careless!" His eyes were wide, dangerous, glowing faintly with the very emotion she had taught herself to stifle best, "If you, you stupid, little girl, would stop to think for one moment, you wouldn't be so quick to ridicule me, _especially_ not in my land." Raven's heartbeat had increased dramatically, and she had no doubt he could feel it with his long fingers pressed so tightly against her pulse point. In his rage, he'd lifted her off the ground and now proceeded to drop her unceremoniously on the rough carpet that, Raven noted with some disgust as she was coughing for air, was stained in many places and smelled not only of blood, but also of alcohol, toxins and sex.

"This realm is _known_ for its power; those pathetic creatures that are exiled from their own barbaric lands would _kill themselves_ before they step foot here," her father's face twisted in hate, and, for the slightest moment, she was reminded of Beastboy when he'd been affected by the radioactive waste from his fight with Adonis. That anger – it wasn't artificial, like back then, but it still wasn't all there was to it. "Once that coward gains control of our land, our subjects will be slaughtered."

Raven scowled, standing up off the filthy carpet quickly and rubbing her throat, "And what does that matter to you? It's not like you've ever had any respect for those who worked under you," she said, thinking of Slade.

Trigon smirked, nearly grinning, and she could easily see the white-haired giant that had come to Earth in his face. Any curiosity that had been taking hold, or understanding urged on by her powers disappeared on the spot as she remembered the red skies…the fire…the stone. This was not a ruler, this was a demon. A monster that had never deigned to repent, and, through some sick twist of fate, had created her. She hardened to the humanoid; there was nothing human about him.

"I do not respect those who cannot understand even the basics of my being," he answered, gazing into the embers of the man-sized fireplace that, no doubt, had been the spot of many assassinations, "I am evil manifested, and my kind sleep next to deceit like a lover," he said, surprisingly poetic, "The people of this realm know this. They know that you must be strong to survive, and that even the weakest, dumbest mongrel will cheat you if they get the chance. Every member of my court has tried to assassinate me at least once." He turned to her, "They are kept in line with _fear_ only. Not one of them, not _any_ creature has ever managed to defeat me. Except _you."_

Raven started; he walked over to her, eyes steely, "You, Raven, could easily be mistaken for the most powerful being on this side of the realm. Granted, you did not kill me, and didn't even weaken me enough to change my position here, but you drove me back here with naught but your own power, and, despite your helplessness at my hand now, not one being in the entire palace would dare to cross you because they believe that given half the chance, you can annihilate each and every one of them."

"I…am not supposed to be your first choice, am I?" she said slowly, piecing things together as his words shed more light on the subject. Word of her father's defeat had found its way here. His power was questioned, but had remained as firm as ever – after all, he'd only been a fraction as powerful on Earth – and it was determined that nothing about him had changed. And if he wasn't weaker, then she must've been stronger.

He laughed loudly, "That would be ridiculous. You have hundreds of siblings, dozens of which are perfectly eligible for your position, but you are the only one the crowds will follow. Without the army…"

"…There is no war," she finished.

He nodded with another smirk, "Only butchery. Which, I believe, you are against."

She scowled, "I do not care what happens down _here._ The place that has my protection is Earth."

Trigon frowned, "And, do you think that Earth is so untouchable?"

She bristled, "Is that a threat? You can't even _get_ to Earth again!"

"Indeed. _I_ can't and won't bother, now that you've gone through the trouble of _exorcising_ me," he said, glaring at her dully, "But don't think that our opponent won't. The only reason we fear invasion is because his empire is _overflowing._ They've spilled into both the lower levels and part of the upper. And since the second is beating them back with close to everything it has, their next goal is the very place that, soon, they will not be restricted from clearing. Here."

"He has no way to get to Earth. Even if he did, my team and I could beat him back."

"No, Raven," Trigon said with a note of finality, nostrils flaring, _"I_ had no way of getting to Earth. That was why I was confined down here, after all – so that I could not even _touch_ a human. But I did," he looked at her with some disdain, "Had I factored in the possibility of you unlocking your power and my own weakened state, I would have gotten rid of you or opened a portal to Hell, to allow miasma to strengthen me. I suppose I was too eager, though, and that cost me my throne. But you can be sure that after such an example, Lord Bane will not make my same mistake." He did not allow her to gather another argument – she could still mess it up for him (there was _bound_ to be a way to get his _insurance _off), or her friends would storm the place at the slightest sign of her trouble (well, not without some significant help, but _he_ didn't have to know that) – and plowed onwards, giving no regard to her furious expression.

"I implore you not to attempt to remove _that,"_ he looked at her arm, "And will alert Elimona of the proper time for your arrival in the Third Chamber. She will select the appropriate attire for you." He walked back to his desk and nimbly lifted the text he'd been reading when she came in, flipping open to the page he'd been on and removing the chord, resuming his calm position against his desk.

Raven fisted her hands, teeth grinding at his treatment of her as if she were a child, but he refused to acknowledge it. She knew he knew about her aggravation, but guessed that he chose to pretend it wasn't there to further anger her. _'It's a trick of his…don't fall for it…all your life, he's been working to make you angry…don't fall for it…'_ But, _damn,_ it was hard.

"Raven." She looked up. "Please leave."

She did, but couldn't resist giving him the finger over her shoulder on her way out.

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A/N: Ah…No-one gets under Raven's skin like her father. Updates for this story will increase around June (like, _really_ increase, although the chapters will be just as short as the previous three), so I hope that this meager offering will keep readers satisfied until then.

Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

Elimona made quick work of her hair, somehow managing to get it into a twist and adding tiny, decorative braids to the style. The bangs that she liked to frame her face had been gathered up as well, leaving her looking…old. And elegant, though she knew that would be seen through immediately by her father, at the least. Elimona did her job silently, with no unnecessary movements and assisted her in putting on the flowing, many-skirted clothes of her suitor's nation. The dress' shift hung off her shoulders loosely, and seemed to only be supported by the multitude of thin sashes that tied the excessively long sleeves up around her arms and the baggy body of the dress tightly to her middle to assure everyone that, yes, she had a feminine figure.

Once this had been achieved, she was asked to sit and Elimona assisted her in donning comfortable, leather boots that complemented the color scheme of her 'gown' nicely and, like every other garment from their allies' country, had to be fixed to her calve with tied cloth. After tying a large, metal fan to her waist, just snug enough that it hung of her hips – "This is a traditional symbol of power for women in the nation of the dragons; the elegant deadliness of a fan is mirrored in the wings of dragons. In the same way, the men carry some form of bladed weapon with them, as metaphorical 'claws' and 'teeth'." Elimona monologue-ed when Raven fingered the 'weapon' in curiosity – the she-demon gestured Raven to the door and allowed Adrian to take her to the meeting chamber.

The walk was long and, unlike Elimona, Adrian was all-too willing to fill the silence. He lightheartedly described the depictions of every painting, the history of every square foot of marble they passed, and told her (with much snickering) the conquests of the notoriously promiscuous chef's assistant without her needing to make the slightest effort (in fact, he blithely ignored several 'dear-God-_stop'_ expressions of hers).

"I'm betting Lord Trigon has done something-or-other to assist you with your intolerance of the miasma," he said cheerfully, altering his gait to slow down and attempt to strike up a conversation again.

In response to his musings, Raven lifted her arm for inspection again. Was it the magic he'd placed on her earlier? Adrian caught her eye, "No worries! His Majesty is very clever; he wouldn't allow your powers to be limited when he is in need of them."

Raven held back a huff of disagreement and allowed him to take her by the arm, into a low, dim hallway that opened up into a small circular room. Trigon stood waiting, clad in a uniform similar to the one she'd seen him in before, though it was a misty blue this time around. The color did not suit his disposition at all, and Raven wondered at the change. "There you are," he said with a bored expression. His gaze moved over her head, "And here come our guests."

Raven turned in time to see one of the tallest women she'd ever met saunter into the room. The woman – whom Raven distantly remembered was called Serpentaye – had ludicrously long periwinkle hair and a glyph Raven knew was for storing power covering one side of her face. To add to the display, a comically large golden fan hung at her hip, somehow silent whenever it came into contact with anything that ought to have caused it to ring; magic. Behind her, a man Raven assumed was her betrothed walked with measured steps, two swords that looked like they could be called duel blades strapped to his back. He offered no greeting (unlike the woman, who had given a girlish laugh and jumped to grasp Trigon's hand and be led to a seat) and merely stared down his long, straight nose at her in disdain.

…_Well._ Trying to ignore whatever part of her mind had decided to spontaneously convert into an offended actress, Raven moved to observe her father and the queen of whatever their allied nation was called. They were each offered seats and did their best to look attentive while the two rulers engaged in small talk – "I'm flattered you chose to wear our colors to the meeting, milord," said the dragoness breathily, accompanying her statement with a beguiling smile, while the demon lord stated that it was the least he could do when she chose to grace his land with her luminous presence, and the ponytailed woman erupted into a fit of giggles.

"This is my daughter," Trigon gestured, and Raven fought the urge to narrow her eyes.

The dragoness smiled warmly, "I recognized you by your hair. Such an enchanting color," she reached out a stroked the violet locks, much to Raven's shock. For the second time in a minute, the sorceress had to stifle her reaction. _'Why is she touching me?'_ With another elegant laugh, the woman leaned back and offered an apology. Raven wondered if the woman was an empath as well, having so easily understood her schooled expression.

"My father has spoken of me to you?" she asked, choosing to break the silence that was _just_ on the border of uncomfortable, thanks to the blue-haired lady's friendly expression.

"Of course. But it was really my companion here who painted for me a picture of your personality," Serpentaye said, gesturing to the man who eyed his monarch with a hint of a smile on his face, "He says you two have met before. Perhaps friends?"

"Acquaintances," corrected the man.

"Introduce yourself," urged the woman, breaching the touch barrier for the third and last person in the room (Adrian had departed shortly after her arrival).

The man sighed and looked at her from behind long, dark bangs, "I'm Malchior."

…

…

A/N: My calluses are peeling again. Not only is it gross, but it _hurts._ But you know what helps?

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	6. Chapter 6

Raven contemplated a fourth glass of champagne. Well, she thought it was champagne. It looked similar; the bubbles, smell and taste were all the same, only the color was darker, so that it resembled beer instead. With a deep frown, she moved to drink it with all the grace of a drunkard, when a hand stopped her. Malchior pulled the alcohol away from her and set it on the tray of a passing server.

Currently, they were in a large hall, moments after their engagement had been 'officially' announced, and Raven had immediately been swarmed by a host of people whose very _smiles_ sent out an air of upper-class. Everyone seemed to be leering at her, all desperate to gain the favor of the girl who was supposedly stronger than their ruler. Some ingenious idea on a stranger's part was to offer her a drink, and now she was standing aloofly against the far wall, a conga line of empty glasses on a table beside her.

"What do you want?" she scowled at the dragon, who shrugged infuriatingly and grabbed her wrist before she could retrieve her cure, "What? It's not like I'll ruin the party – no-one's even looking at me anymore."

"Yes, your father has done a fine job of directing away all attention from his piss-drunk disgrace of a daughter," Malchior commended, sending her a glare to stop any interruptions to his lecture. And where did he get off talking to her about _etiquette,_ anyway? "Luckily, milady has noticed your disposition and has chosen to assist him."

Raven snorted, crossing her arms. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered at his words, but she chose to get directly to that which had been troubling her up until his theft of her liquor, "How did you even get out of the book?"

He leaned back against the wall, the epitome of nonchalance, "Her Highness needed someone to solidify the alliance; she remembered me, and thought it would be grand if her cousin was to come and spend some time in Hell," he shrugged, "I had no quarrels. I needed a way out of the book, this was it. Little did I know _you_ were 'Trigon's Conqueror'." He sent her a calculating stare.

"I didn't want to be here at all," she attempted to imitate his pose of indifference, but nearly managed to lose her balance. She ought not to drink so much when she was around her enemies. Even _if_ it was in their best interests not to let her publicly humiliate them.

Malchior smirked, "Your father _made_ you?"

She scowled, "Earth is in danger. It is my duty to take the opposing side out before they attack my home."

He gave a humorless laugh, and she turned to stare at him again, because (_damn it!_) her empathy was having a field day. He was way too depressed for a sociopath who had practically been given the green light to eradicate an army's worth of people. "We're not going to win, Raven," his eyes scanned the crowd, every inch of him portraying the hero who knew it was a lost cause.

"Don't lump me in with the likes of you," she recited automatically, but kept her ears pricked.

"Even together, this isn't enough. I've been called out of my prison for a suicide mission." Malchior paused, "And everyone in here knows it."

"Then why bother? I guess I can understand why the ruler of a country wouldn't want to back down, but why would _you_…?"

"There's no such thing as death, Raven, you should know that," Malchior said, and offered her his arm, "Let's go."

She raised an eyebrow, _"Where?_ We're supposed to be in here, aren't we?"

He shook his head, "If the two betrothed want to sneak away and spend some time alone together, no-one will object. Come on."

She began walking, but didn't make any move to touch him. There was no need to, anyway. With a long-suffering sigh, he led the way back into the chamber they'd met in previously.

"Explain what you were saying about death," she said, sitting down on the loveseat she'd occupied before, while he took the armchair her father had sat in.

"If a creature is strong enough to survive down here, they will be strong enough to leave an imprint. Humans call it a ghost," Malchior explained, "And while they are nearly untouchable in the human world, down here the only thing that changes is that they cannot be easily found."

"With the right magic, you can harness the power of a ghost," Raven guessed.

Malchior nodded, "You just need to know what ties them down enough that they can't get to wherever it is that they're untouchable."

"Being people who've ruled over them for centuries, Trigon and Serpentaye would have a lot of information on a person. Enough to know why they're not 'moving on'." Raven said, the mist from the alcohol slowly giving way to reason, "So…it's better to die and be left alone than die at the hands of your ruler and then undergo…whatever it is."

The room had lost its hearty glow from before and was now lit by only the embers from the fireplace. While her sight was better than the average human's, the tiny amount of light was only allowing her eyes to play tricks on her and that third glass of champagne wasn't helping. She breathed out a huffy sigh, reverting to just watching Malchior stare at the dying flames.

"So?" she asked.

"Hm?" he turned to her, an expression of interest on his face.

"What's the plan? Why did you bring me here? You must've had a reason," she said with some irritation.

He shrugged, "I was sick of hearing every last bit of chatter in between your overly-rebellious statements."

She narrowed her eyes, "That's it? You're just going to contemplate your death." She had a planet to protect. The dragon-turned-king-of-angst wasn't going to get in her way.

"That's all we're going to do. Trigon wants to go down in a blaze of glory, and Lady Serpentaye isn't about to stop him. We'll learn the dance that we're supposed to do at the ceremony, we'll march into battle and we'll die."

"Go ahead and die, then," Raven said, scowling brilliantly, _"I_ have more important things to do, like get back _home._ I can't do that if Lord Blaire – "

"_Bane."_

" – is marching his troops right into my home." She eyed him, "And don't correct me. I'm going off on a drunken rant. You'll just kill my buzz." He stared. She continued, "I know for a fact that we've got at least two people powerful enough to take on far more soldiers than normal: you and my father. I haven't seen Serpentaye fighting yet, but she's probably just as good, if not better. We've got, what? A month?"

"Twenty-nine days," Malchior corrected hoarsely.

"I can train in that time. Miasma resistance and all of that." She crossed her arms and leaned back, pursing her lips in thought. Her father had many books in his study if nowhere else. At least one of those had to be useful. The issue was getting him to lend it to her. Her eyes strayed over to Malchior, who was looking at Raven thoughtfully. "What?"

He tilted his head in acknowledgement and stood up, "It'll help with Trigon's hopes for the affair, if anything."

"You're going to help me?" She said, a bit surprised. Though semi-emotional speeches did have that effect on people, he had seemed fairly accepting of his demise a moment ago.

"Get to bed. We're starting early tomorrow," he said, lifting her onto her feet with magic.

They left the tunnel and departed in opposite directions, Raven giving him an interested glance over her shoulder. It seemed that her magic lessons with him were starting up again.

With a groan, she remembered the alcohol and made a mental note to get Elimona or Adrian to bring her some water, just in case.

…

…

A/N: Alcohol makes everything so much more intense. Or, at least, it makes Raven bolder. I wonder if I can incorporate it again soon – writing semi-drunk characters is just so much fun!

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	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Two days that lasted. Ah, well, I have an excuse, see? People from out of town came over.

…

…

Raven huffed, putting up a shield as Malchior blasted her back another few feet. In a last-ditch effort to avoid getting thrown against the (_stone!_) walls _again,_ she pulled the shadows at her feet around her, concentrating to keep the shield up at the same time, and melted into the floor. She then moved forward, pulling her being up out of the hard rock and regaining tangibility, only to be dealt a swift punch to the jaw and crumpling, hitting her head along with her elbow.

She looked up at the crude lighting fixtures and breathed in deeply, letting the air curl in her lungs coolly before coming out again. Sparring with Malchior was painful. Not even painful in the 'I-trusted-you-and-you-tried-to-kill-me-and-now-I-have-to-see-you-again' kind of painful, but in the 'I-have-bruises-in-places-I-didn't-know-existed' kind of painful. Her nose was throbbing from multiple kicks to the face (Malchior didn't seem to discriminate between magical and physical violence), her hands kept scraping the less-than-smooth tiles and she _really_ didn't like the way it was getting difficult to tell the difference between one candle on the lousy chandelier hanging above them and the next.

Malchior, on the other hand, looked better than ever. And this could really be taken literally, as the Casanova (as she'd taken to calling him on account of the busty brunette who kept meeting his gaze from her spot in a chair off to the side and licking her lips) wasn't wearing a shirt. From her place on the floor, Raven observed as he tossed his bangs out of his eyes and flexed his abdominals for the woman and smirked at her appreciative smile. She attempted to grit her teeth in annoyance, but that just wasn't happening – the blow he'd dealt her was making any movement of her jaw difficult.

"Would it kill you to be serious?" she snapped.

He turned back to her, derisive expression back on his face, and raised an eyebrow. "There's no need for me to be. You're weak enough that I hardly need to exert myself."

She stifled a growl and got up, swallowing a mixture of blood and saliva, and settled into a defensive pose. Malchior just sighed.

"If all you're going to be doing during the battle is defending yourself, we won't get anywhere. We need an _attacker_ who can actually inflict some _damage_ more than a defender." Still, he moved forward with fistfuls of crackling, harmful energy and took deliberate slashes at her, aiming very purposefully at her vital organs, head, and legs.

Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, Raved expanded the area of her shield and pressed back, "Maybe I could attempt to attack from time to time, if you'd _let me."_

"One, no-one will _let you_ do anything in a real fight. Two, you _choose_ to be on the defensive, it isn't that I _make_ you." Malchior barked back, the magic in his hands dying away as he put two hands on the solid expanse of Raven's shield and released a funnel of power to tear her screen apart.

Raven scowled, _"Fine!"_ She shot a beam of black at him, which he dodged with little difficulty. Her glower deepened and she tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear with great frustration. What was wrong with her? She parried another one of his attacks and used her levitation to fly to the opposite side of the room in an attempt to get away from him for a short while. Malchior seemed to take this as a forfeit and turned to walk to the brunette, who offered up a towel and some significant skin-on-skin contact.

Ignoring the two, Raven summoned forth a sphere of her usual dark matter and took some time manipulating it. It wasn't working nearly as well as she was used to, the miasma probably having some sort of effect on it. Come to think of it, according to Trigon, everyone here was stronger than her _because_ of the miasma. The bind her father had placed on her arm had eased the effects of her body, but her powers were still wildly out of control.

She frowned, dispelling the ball of shadow and examining her arm again. The skin was infuriatingly bare. She bit her lip, working over the effects her father's magic would have had on her. If her power was increasing and she had nothing to base it against, then she would likely push it back with too much force and end up with less juice than usual. But what she needed wasn't _less,_ it was _more,_ and with the constant exposure to so much concentrated demonic pressure, it was likely that her abilities would continue their unwieldy ascent in 'horsepower' and she would continue pushing them back with either too much or too little force.

With a sigh, she dropped her arm and accepted the towel that Adrian offered. "I don't mean to imply that you cannot improve any more today, your Highness – " – Raven snorted – " – But if you plan to enjoy a bath before your dance lesson with your betrothed, I suggest you take your leave now." She nodded, and they walked together to the exit, Adrian giving Malchior and his groupie her excuse on their way out.

[-M-]

It was a pleasant surprise that she had a half hour to kill after her bath. Apparently, Adrian had been referring to a twenty-minute long soak rather than her usual quick rinse after workouts. Eyeing the darkening collection of bruises on her hip with more than mild annoyance, Raven dressed (by herself this time, thankfully) in the newly-cleaned uniform that she'd arrived here in, and sat down for a long session of meditaion. Slowly, her dark surroundings melted away and the soft fabric of the bed ceased to be felt by her. In her mind, she visualized opening her eyes and expected to see the dark cosmos and various floating islands of her inner world.

Instead, she gazed straight into the annoyed countenance of her four-eyed self.

…

…

A/N: Malchior, you glorious bastard. I've been reading through some of the softer RaeMal fics and comparing their Malchiors to mine…and mine is such an ass.


	8. Chapter 8

Raven was not afraid of her inner beings. As they were a part of her, they had all the logic she did and understood that if harm came to her, it was coming to them, too, and therefore refrained from harming her. That said, when an insane, red-eyed, fanged woman was snarling in your face, there was likely to be more than a bit of intimidation on your side. Which made sense – every aspect of Raven's anger was geared towards a frightening appearance, but the fact that it was one of her _emotions' looks_ causing her heartbeat to quicken was not acceptable on her part. She resolved to spend more time around the red-cloaked form of herself to null any remainders of the feeling.

"Is there something you want to discuss?" she said testily, then shook her head (trying to hide her thoughts was pointless; the person standing in front of her _was_ her thoughts) to dispel the beginnings of irritation that the woman in front of her was inciting.

"You called me." Answered the being, hands curling into fists as if incensed at her own _gall._ "I am the manifestation of your powers and the best source of information you have."

Raven sighed, trying to calm her irritation, "My power has grown from the miasma. I need to know how much so that I can control it accordingly."

The four-eyed woman snorted, "You _know_ that's not how you find out."

Raven bristled and charged magic into her hands, releasing all limits she had on it. In here, there was nothing she could harm, and thus no need to take precautions. Her red-robed doppelganger smirked and mimicked her movements, pushing her back a few feet with her own energy. It was exhilarating – the power inside her flowed like a burst dam and Raven easily forced out more and more, watching her other self grimace and attempt to reinforce her attack with strenuous movements, and allowed herself to ease up on the power when the twin was up at the edge of the floating stone island.

Taking the opportunity, her other self released an unexpected amount of power that overpowered Raven's unprepared beam of shadow and launched her back, out into the black space. Another island formed as Raven flew towards it, flipping in the air with the aid of her levitation and landing on her feet to stare and her red-clad self incredulously. The uncouth twin scowled and began walking towards her, a stone pathway forming between them as she walked.

"See, that's what I hate about you – me," the demonic girl said, "You always hold _back._ You don't _need_ to, you know – if our father's hold on us hasn't disappeared completely after our defeat of him on Earth, this – " she raised her arm, referring to Trigon's magic, " – would have fixed any other problems. He doesn't _want_ his realm messed up because you can't handle yourself. You have _issues."_

Raven raised a brow and her other self made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat, unappreciative of the blue-cloaked girl's noticing the 'I-am-you' mistake. "If I did not hold back – "

"Then Malchior would have been _on the fucking ground_ and not beating the shit out of you. It's my body, too, and you're doing a damn good job of messing it up." The mirror image's hand came up to rest on her hip and, as if to prove a point (_probably_ to prove a point; neither she nor her other selves were for dramatics), the cloak came up and displayed the purplish marks on her leg.

Raven sighed, "Is that what you're trying to kill me for?" This time it was the original rolling her eyes at the expectant expression on her mirror image's face at the age-old 'I'm-not-trying-to-kill-you-that-would-be-stupid' argument. "You know what I mean."

"That's part of it," her four-eyed self replied with surprising civility.

"What's the other part?"

"Malchior is bound to you via agreement between two countries. It's a _marriage._ You belong to him, he belongs to you."

"Yeah, I got that." Raven scowled, "So?"

"_So,_ why are you letting _your property_ fool around with every other female in the castle?" Her demon side said like it was obvious.

Raven stared. And stared. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you just said."

"_He_ is about the only thing of yours in the castle. By letting everyone have a piece of him, you're pretty much saying 'Walk all over me, I like it,'" the twin said with increasing irritation, "No-one will acknowledge your power if – "

" – No. Just no." Raven said, looking at her other self, "One, I am not about to start talking to him about his love life. He can go have affairs with whomever he wants; I don't care – "

" – _I – !"_

"_Two,"_ Raven thundered, "It's better everyone keeps wondering about me, isn't it? If they know how weak I am from underexposure to miasma from the get-go and I still have this thing on me," she lifted the arm where her father had placed the magic on her, "We're screwed. We won't be able to use our power against Trigon and with the kingdom looking to abandon him and join Lord Bane, I'm thinking he'll want to use me as an example of what will happen to those who leave him."

"_I'm so glad you aren't attempting to escape, daughter,"_ her red-cloaked self hissed in her father's voice, _"It makes everything so much easier."_

"Y-You?" she said, puzzled, "But how…?"

"_Your trance was too deep for your servants to break, and as the only one with access to your mind, _I_ had to be called to fetch you. The first dance of the bride and groom _is_ an example of the families' breeding, after all."_ She would have laughed at the undoubtedly _sour_ tone of voice had she not been wondering why he'd appeared as her anger while in her mind. He seemed able to sense her amusement, though, and her four-eyed face scowled in response, _"Leave your mindscape immediately; your groom has been kept waiting for nearly half an hour."_ With that, she could feel her father's presence leave her red double.

Concentrating slightly, Raven opened her eyes and found herself nearly face-to-face with Adrian. She yelped and her body levitated back a few feet in response.

"Your Highness!" He said with apparent relief, "We were worried." Behind him, Elimona nodded her agreement.

"Sorry." She got up.

"I am, too," Malchior said, sarcasm evident, "I should have made sure my trivial needs didn't conflict with your infinitely more important schedule."

Raven glared, "Will you stop?" Was it just the alcohol, or was he nicer to her last night that he was being now? And who let him in her room, anyway?

Shrugging at the looks he was getting from both her _and_ her servants, he walked out to where they'd be practicing. With a huff of indignation, Raven followed.

…

…

A/N: Why do none of you have accounts? I can't PM you if you don't have accounts! Geez! WDR – Adrian was never physically described, but he has dark hair and an average skin tone. He looks like every other bishounen. AF – I can't promise jealousy, but he'll be getting protective way, _way_ later. As is, he's just annoyed he has to be around her.

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	9. Chapter 9

A/N: No, you're right. I did die.

…

…

Raven allowed herself to relax and reclined onto her bed.

The dance lesson had been less stressful than she'd anticipated. No matter the fact that she didn't like to dance with others, or, in fact, at _all,_ it seemed her natural ability to avoid tripping and/or stepping on things that she didn't mean to step on (namely, Malchior's feet) had come into play, and they'd nailed nearly the entire first half of the dance. At her display of what Raven hoped was grace, Malchior was silent, never looking her in the eye despite the fact that they'd been near enough that her bust would occasionally graze his chest when she moved forwards. Attempts at conversation had been discouraged, too, as their instructor required incredible focus from the two of them. She wasn't usually one for interrupting quiet, but his apparent upset at her existence was enough to get her to want to talk to him.

But that wasn't the most pressing issue right now. She had a good load of other things to deal with, like attempting another conversation with her red self and contacting the Titans. The first was relatively easy to do, especially since 'night' was coming (there was _no_ change in the outside of the castle) and she'd have a good eight hours to speak to her anger and get some sleep. The second, however…

She tinkered with the T-communicator that she'd brought with her out of habit. As she'd expected, it didn't work down here, but it would still provide a useful element if she was going to use magic, which was looking more and more probable. After her lesson, she'd spoken with Elimona about communication with Earth and the blonde she-demon had replied with the assurance that anything she wanted to send to Earth could be sent by either of her servants using her father's power, but that it would require she be comfortable with her father knowing near-every detail of any letters that she sent. That left the possibility of a spell.

She'd never really used spells for inter-realm communication, and whenever she used them for inter-realm travel it hadn't worked well. Nearly every object in her room held magical value of some sort, however, and her large, pentagonal vanity mirror was no exception – it served as an answer to almost all communication problems, and was her best way of getting into contact with her mother and the monks. Raven rolled over onto her stomach and looked at the obscene gilded monstrosity that hung serenely on the wall. A scan of the room in which she was currently residing told her that nothing except the belt she'd brought with her was magical, and that left her with the hefty task of altering the mirror on her own.

Her original mirror had been a gift, so her knowledge of creating communication devices was restricted to the fact that any reflective surface would likely work, that it required a lot of concentration and – Raven looked at her T-com – an object or person relative to where it was contacting. Which meant, Raven thought with a sigh, that she'd be sneaking around the castle after 'lights out' looking for the library, since her schedule for tomorrow was even busier than today's (according to Adrian) and she wouldn't have time to do any studying during the day.

Raven groaned and stood on aching muscles. She may as well begin looking for the required books now. Starting tomorrow would mean a longer period of time in which Robin would likely decide the Titans needed to come to her rescue. Oh, how she _hated _these situations. With some stretching of sore limbs, she slipped out the door and began exploring.

[-M-]

Being a person who regularly dealt with and controlled shadows, Raven was very used to them and the dark in general. As a rule, she could notice things in the dark that others couldn't: every detail of the coat on the chair across the room was privy to her, and so the boogeyman leering in the corner was never some creature her mind had created, but just that - a coat on a chair. This ability was something she was thankful for, as it had helped the Titans more than once when someone chose to be 'sneaky' and attempt to escape whilst they were distracted. It was useful in putting aside childish notions about the dark and the 'monsters' that lived in it.

But after she'd seen the third couple pressed quietly into the dark corners in the hallway (the lights in the castle were dimmed at night, probably to give some indication of the time), she was forced to change her opinion of her powers. At times, they were just plain annoying; she would not have minded ignorance concerning the activities of so-and-so when she was looking for books. Raven considered turning around and ruining the evening for all by asking directions of the two in the middle of a tryst, but reconsidered when she saw light shining under the crack of a door up ahead.

Increasing her speed in an attempt to get away from the image of the two she'd just seen, she turned to the fairly small wood entance and knocked.

"Enter," called Malchior.

She grimaced. _Not_ the person she'd hoped to meet. Especially when she was _this_ irascible, what with having endured his frigid company all of today. Footsteps sounded from inside and the door swung open to reveal an less-than enthused Malchior. She'd been standing there too long.

"Well?"

She had a death wish. "Well, what?"

He scowled brilliantly, _"Well,_ why are you knocking on the door to my study at eleven-o'-clock?"

She huffed, "I was looking for the library."

"Farther down the hall," he said, and shut the door.

Raven pursed her lips, not deigning to thank him and continued onwards. When she reached the expansive room, (which really was more of a dumping ground for books than a place to keep them organized) she paused. Judging by the many precarious piles of tattered and decidedly outdated-looking volumes, she had quite a ways to go. Swallowing what was sure to be an annoyed mutter, she began her search.

…

…

A/N: Feel free to accuse this of being a filler, but I needed to get Raven communicating with the other Titans again. Getting rid of them altogether is just unrealistic. WDR – No idea what color Adrian's eyes are. Gray, maybe?

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	10. Chapter 10

Raven woke up to Elimona brightening the lamps to the point of blackening the glass in which they were held. After seeing that her eyes had opened, the she-demon obligingly lowered the lights and began stoking the fire in the hearth on the other side of the room. To Raven's great surprise, the room was cool. Not chilly enough to be called 'cold', but cool enough. Raven got up from her bed, realizing with some embarrassment that she'd fallen asleep on top of the covers with two of the three books she'd recovered from the library spread out before her.

The trip to the library had been difficult. There was no organization to the books at _all_ and she'd gotten distracted more than once by reading material she hadn't encountered anywhere before. The types of books that the monks had frowned upon were plenty here, and they enticed Raven using her curiosity alone. Nonetheless, she'd found three books on the subject of mirror-communication and had started studying last night. To her knowledge, she'd only been up for about three hours, which meant she'd gotten five-or-so hours of sleep and had completely missed out on communicating with her anger.

Raven stifled a yawn and stretched, nodding when Elimona explained that the bath had been prepared for her and that breakfast would be waiting when she came out. She was afraid of falling asleep and drowning while she was in the water, and went as far as swimming from side to side in the enormous 'tub' to stay awake. Her muscles were still sore, but in a slightly different way. It felt like power had gathered into her limbs during her short rest; her energy coiled like a spring. In an attempt to relieve some of the tension, she stretched a bit once she got out, the stone pleasantly warm under her skin. After an awkward incident where she nearly slipped back into the water, Raven decided it was better to do this later, when the risk of getting her hair annoyingly wet wasn't present.

Elimona had laid out clothing that she could wear during her spar with Malchior today on her bed. She could tell it was the kind from his kingdom again; thin ropes and leather thongs held slightly billowy parts of the clothing to her body to keep it out of the way. The pants were larger than she was accustomed to; she guessed they'd actually been made for a man, maybe even Malchior, but the various ties on them kept them fastened to her. After she dressed, she tentatively ate the eggs that had been left for her, then exited the room.

Adrian stood waiting for her and, with an enthusiastic greeting, led her to the room she and Malchior had been training in yesterday. There was no audience today, and as soon as they'd entered, Adrian left, making sure to wish her luck. Malchior got up off the chair he'd been in and walked over, taking in her appearance.

"You didn't sleep enough," he remarked mildly, "Not good."

Raven's brow furrowed. "You're impossible to understand." At his expression, she continued, "First, you agree to train me. Then you go on to insult me with every opportunity you get. Now, you're choosing to show _concern."_ She crossed her arms and attempted to strengthen her use of empathy; current evidence proved he wouldn't be eager to tell her what was on his mind.

He scowled, likely sensing what she was doing, "My concern is for myself. _You_ are a prominent factor in the whole mess. Every mistake _you_ make affects my livelihood. And stop that!"

She released the energy, smirking a little at the irritation on his face, "Can you blame me for trying to figure you out?"

He seemed to deflate, "No. I suppose I can't. After all, my attempts at figuring _you_ out haven't yielded any results." She added that to her list of things to be relieved about: she posed a mystery to Malchior. What kind of mystery, it was unclear. But there was something about her he didn't know, and it gave her a slight advantage. At least, she hoped. Seeming to decide the silence had stretched out long enough, Malchior continued, "We will resume our sparring today; remember to _dodge_ if you can't attack."

Raven nodded and allowed her shadows to swallow her before his glowing fist met its mark.

[-M-]

What seemed like three hours in, Malchior called them to stop. To her immense satisfaction, she was unscathed, except for the spot on her ankle where he'd grabbed it to drag her back down into his range while she'd been flying. She'd attempted to kick him in the face when he'd done that, but only managed to pull herself free.

They both slouched slightly, the spark that the fight had ignited dying out. They were both sticky, breathing heavily, and a bit more tolerant of each other now that they'd had the chance to beat each other senseless. Neither one had succeeded, but the tension was almost nonexistent now.

Malchior concentrated, then looked at a pitcher of ice water and a glass near the far wall that hadn't been there before. After taking a drink, he offered some to Raven, who took it gratefully. Malchior spoke, "Your control over your power improved. Was it the meditation?"

She inwardly flinched at the knowledge he could still remember how her powers worked. "Yes. The changes from the miasma were observed by me and I altered my control to accommodate them."

He nodded, "The miasma will continue to increase your strength. It will probably increase steadily from now on, unlike before, but you should continue to meditate to keep it in check."

Raven blew a strand of hair out of her face, then gave the glass to Malchior when he reached for it. She watched him take another gulp. "Is there anything I can train to do magically? My shields can cover large distances; can I push the enemy back?"

He considered, "Yes, but they will undoubtedly have those with the same skills as you. It would end up a power struggle, and they would likely win," he handed the glass back to her, "Any competition between us and the enemy should be avoided. They are greater in number and likely greater in stamina. It is best to just attempt to eradicate as much of their force as possible."

Raven frowned, "Why not just aim for the center of it all? Can't we attack the leader directly?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Do you really think there won't be precautions taken against that? It's not just _us_ who want him dead. There have likely been hundreds of assassination attempts in the kingdom already. Lord Bane is capable enough to quietly dispose of _everyone_ who wanted him gone. The battle is likely the first time he's been 'out in the open' about anything."

"No," she shook her head, "What about during the battle?"

"Then he'll be sitting quietly on a beast of some sort at the back, behind hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers who have sworn to stop anything before it gets too close." Malchior shook his head, "The best we can do is what we're doing already. Now," he looked at her, seeming to discard all of his previous tired-ness, _"You_ try to land a hit on _me."_

Raven jumped and levitated several feet backwards, black energy whirling around her hands in preparation for a beam.

Something about his resignation bothered her, though she couldn't put her finger on it.

...

…

A/N: I'm a BAD author! Waah! – But look! _Look!_ They're being civil!_ AND_ sharing a glass! That's _totally_ an indirect kiss right there, right?

Review, please!


	11. Chapter 11

Raven grit her teeth as, again, The Hand moved from her ribs to her hip.

They were dancing again, but with different partners. Malchior had found the she-demon that had observed them in battle the other day and seemed to be taking even more liberties than their instructor was, his hand on the brunette's ass and his eyes trained diligently on her cleavage. On the other hand, Raven was dancing with their instructor, who was quickly becoming annoyed with her "Keep your hand _here,_ please!"-es and had no qualms about hissing the fact that that usually stopped for women around ten into her ears when they got close enough in their spins.

For propriety's sake, they'd be dancing with others at the celebrations – Raven especially, the instructor had let them know, as a thank-you to the all-male collection of army leaders that would be leaving soon afterwards – and so they were learning a more common version of the dance she and Malchior had nearly finished learning which, Raven understood, was what all of Hell's dances stemmed from. At Malchior's suggestion, they acquired new partners – well, _he'd_ acquired a new partner, in order to make up for the lack of grope-able woman that the morning had been, what with first sparring with Raven, then eating lunch together to discuss strategy again, then teaching her spells – and they'd continued the lesson, changing certain steps and gestures as the miserable-looking music player in the corner changed tunes.

She guessed she couldn't blame Malchior. If she had someone to get cozy with, she'd probably be attempting to make time for them as well. What was annoying her was that she had no-one to talk to, unless she wanted to get chummy with Malchior (not a bad idea, they'd be married soon and likely spending more time together than they were _now)_, and she had yet to come up with a list of things she need to turn the mirror in her room into a communication device. And that there was a hand on her left side that was not her own.

'_This isn't like being groped. This is strictly professional. Adrian did as much when he led you to your room.'_ But it damn well was frustrating.

[-M-]

That evening, she did some exploring. Familiarizing herself with the castle was something anyone could expect of her. Her wandering around, going down one hallway and returning within five minutes (It had been a dead end, and the nearly-unnoticeable crack between that wall and its neighbors reminded Raven of stories of enemies of the monarchs getting bricked into their rooms) was barely acknowledged; she was only afforded slight bows by the servants when she passed.

Her room was on the ground floor, and that left her with much sightseeing to do where she was, even as there were what she estimated was another four floors above her. She was currently looking for some form of door to the outside, since her view of the palace's surroundings made her want to explore the grounds a bit, but all that she'd managed so far were the ever-so-exciting servant's quarters which, while well-hidden and useful places to hide from guests since they likely wouldn't know about them _or_ bother looking for them, were not quite what she'd had in mind.

Nonetheless, _this_ new discovery was intriguing.

Raven, as far as the rest of the world would know, was currently a shadow of a large, human-sized bird on a wall; not a very subtle disguise, but here, it wouldn't matter anyway. At her first appearance inside the hidden stairway – and it had taken phasing through a wall to find – torches had erupted into existence on either side of her. Her feet (as well of the rest of her) became corporeal, and she was immediately assaulted by the face-melting heat of the fires around her.

As she walked downwards, keeping her cloak wrapped tightly against her lest it combust, though the heat was making her sweat straight through it, she noted the passage hadn't been entered in a very long time. Spiderwebs, currently wilting away from the heat, covered every nook and cranny. The floor was still the same marble of the rest of the palace, as were the walls, and neither were damaged, apart from dust and mouse droppings.

Her journey lead her to a larger room, unfurnished, with a tiny door, cement blocking any air flow. The chimney of the fireplace – which had, like the torches, exploded into being as soon as she'd come in and quickly began to cook her alive - was connected to all the other ones in the area, same as anywhere else in the castle. Swiftly, she sent out several blankets of choking black energy, wrapping them around each blaze and snuffing them out. Then she turned her attention to the door.

Once through it, a wave of fresh air hit her face – delicious after the stale, smoky and filthy air of the blocked room – and she immediately flew through the hedges to the garden. This area also appeared to be forgotten; moss-covered statues with missing fingers and coats bird droppings decorated the small space, obnoxiously large breasts and genitals bared for her viewing pleasure. To her delight, though, Raven could spot a dried-out irrigation ditch farther back, hidden, along with the rest of the small clearing.

More black energy encased the useless ornaments one by one, breaking them into manageable pieces soundlessly and piling everything neatly into the ditch. Broken gardening tools and dead plants followed. After half an hour of work, during which she'd gotten nearly as sweaty as she had in the Boiling Room, the clearing was neat, a mostly-clean rock had been chosen to become a backrest, and she'd reluctantly turned away from the cool evening air back into the mysterious room, which greeted her with the same treatment as it had the first time.

Once back in the hallway she'd come across it, she carefully marked the space between two eye-level blocks of marble with deep indents, scattered the resulting dust, and resumed her shadow form to journey back to her room for a bath without offending someone's nose.

…

…

A/N: It's because everyone has a stick up their ass in this fanfic. That's why I don't update. What I wouldn't give to write a steamy Mal/Rae makeout scene…


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